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I've been hoping to start this mini project for a little while, and seeing this prompt told me that this may be my only shot to do it. unfortunately.... I didn't finish in time lol. perhaps I'll post a finished version on the free day? cause I got zip planned for that day.

If it looks weird and unlike my usual style, I hesitated on which animation style I wanted to experiment with, and I decided to finally try and imitate the anime style. I'll work on it heh

the said manga panel bellow cause it's a manga spoiler:

[ us, forever ]

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Hilarious to think Yana designed the gang with the most swag and diversity of all time, only for them to all die namelessly a few panels later in Modri’s tale.

I watched this movie!!

"No," Cloudia agrees with a nod. "I suppose Poe considered The Black Death a little too passé for the modern audience." She pauses and angles her head towards him, her eyes sparkling through the ornate mask, outshining any gem on her person. "Present company excluded, of course."

She has no idea how very right she is - unless, of course, she does.

He keeps his face impassive, his tone apathetic, but she is always seeing more of him than he intends. "Lady Phantomhive, if by some small chance the plague does make a return tonight, I can assure you I will have had nothing to do with it."

She hums doubtfully. "Ah, but what other reason might you have for attending tonight's soirée?"

"Other than spreading darkness and decay?" Cedric asks wryly. "The same as most here, I would think. I received an invitation."

"Did you now?" Her frown is hidden beneath her mask as she looks out again to the other guests, the couples who had begun dancing in a swirl of bright skirts and feathers, but he sees it all the same. "My, how curious. I wonder what other tradespeople may be among us tonight, unrecognized?"

"The thrill of a masked ball," Cedric deadpans, and her resulting huff of laughter satisfies him more than he might ever admit.

"I do not know how I could have ever doubted your enthusiasm for such a gathering, Monsieur, do forgive me." Cloudia turns to him, considering. "Although, in the spirit of the evening, I suppose we ought to leave titles at the door?"

And all decorum with it, no doubt. He might have expected this as soon as he saw her. "Ought we?" he prompts, slightly wary.

"Well, who is to say we recognized one another in our costumes?"

Only, they had. She had spotted him with an immediacy that unnerved him, for his methods of achieving obscurity were not limited to the masks and cloaks of their fellow partygoers, and Cedric…

"No," Cloudia agrees with a nod. "I suppose Poe considered The Black Death a little too passé for the modern audience." She pauses and angles her head towards him, her eyes sparkling through the ornate mask, outshining any gem on her person. "Present company excluded, of course."

She has no idea how very right she is - unless, of course, she does.

He keeps his face impassive, his tone apathetic, but she is always seeing more of him than he intends. "Lady Phantomhive, if by some small chance the plague does make a return tonight, I can assure you I will have had nothing to do with it."

She hums doubtfully. "Ah, but what other reason might you have for attending tonight's soirée?"

"Other than spreading darkness and decay?" Cedric asks wryly. "The same as most here, I would think. I received an invitation."

"Did you now?" Her frown is hidden beneath her mask as she looks out again to the other guests, the couples who had begun dancing in a swirl of bright skirts and feathers, but he sees it all the same. "My, how curious. I wonder what other tradespeople may be among us tonight, unrecognized?"

"The thrill of a masked ball," Cedric deadpans, and her resulting huff of laughter satisfies him more than he might ever admit.

"I do not know how I could have ever doubted your enthusiasm for such a gathering, Monsieur, do forgive me." Cloudia turns to him, considering. "Although, in the spirit of the evening, I suppose we ought to leave titles at the door?"

And all decorum with it, no doubt. He might have expected this as soon as he saw her. "Ought we?" he prompts, slightly wary.

"Well, who is to say we recognized one another in our costumes?"

Only, they had. She had spotted him with an immediacy that unnerved him, for his methods of achieving obscurity were not limited to the masks and cloaks of their fellow partygoers, and Cedric…